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VOL. I.
[For the Banner of the South.]
To the Sea,
Koll on in majesty, thou mighty Rea,
Thou hidest treasures in thy watery caves
Brighter anil richer in their rarity
Then e’en the brightest on thy pathless waves;
Roll on! Thou art the monarch to whose pride
All bow them low; thou hast the widest range
Os empire; in the limits of thy tide
Thou reignest supreme—alone—and know’st no
change.
Roll on in majesty, thou mighty Sea;
Break in thy current the white waves apart,
Although each motion farther bears from me
The priceless burden of a human heart.
Roll on, and guard it well, thoujliaughtv King,
And bid for once the rising storm be still;
For, oh ! to me 'twould be a bitter thing
To know thine angry waves should work it ill.
Roll on in majesty, thou mighty sea;
And take the dearest treasure that I own
Upon thy heaving bosom, though it be
Hard that henceforth I live aud hope alone;
Roll, thou lordly ocean, and yet spare
Thy living freight from danger to the goal;
Speed thee—and how thou triflest, O, beware !
With the blest burden of a human soul.
FIDHLIA.
[FOR THE BANNER OF THE SOUTH.]
THE GOUORIT SVIJLi,
Translated from “ Le Correspondant.”
BY It. D. TANARUS., OF SOUTH CAROLINA.
[concluded.]
And third, the responsibilities and du
ties connected with it. Xavier then pro
ceeded, and said: “Look at poor Clare;
von all know about her. Now she was at
first so happy in a well-assorted match, be
came suddenly a widow, and then an
invalid for life, beside being left with a
little child,and no means for its support !
Once again I ask you, if your position
admits of any comparison-with her ? Be
sides all this, don’t you know there is
usually but one chance in a thousand ?
and if it happened that poor Clare drew
just precisely that one bad number, does
it follow that you must do the same?”
After this outburst, Margaret, in a timid
and hesitating voice said: “Well! well !
But grand-papa, suppose you were to ask
Etienne’s opinion, perhaps he may not re
fuse to speak to day,” and she waited
anxiously until he should do so.
But Etienne, in a sad, low tone said :
“I am sorry, oh, so sorry! to disobey
you, Mademoiselle. But I cannot, oh, in
deed I cannot do it ! There are some
who do not play, because the stake
would cost them too dearly; therefore
they will not risk it. I aril so sorry !
but I cannot!'’ And as the young girl
looked at him, lie repeated, almost in a
tone of supplication .
“Oh no! Mademoiselle, I cannot!”
Margaret shrugged her shoulder with
a pitying kind of smile, merely saying ;
l ' Allous, donc! u I suppose it will do some
other time.”
“What the devil is lie saying about
} !ay, and about stakes, and I know not
what?” impatiently asked Xavier:
hat the deuce are you al! after ?”
“[ndeed, I do not know Grand-papa.”
And atter that she became silent, fol
lowing Jean Marie’s example, who w r as
intently watching Luc’s reappear
ance.
XVIII.
ALL TOGETHER.
T !Cn suddenly the duor opened and
I j ue appeared, stopping for an instant to
■‘•'hade his eye with his great hand.
Never was there a more striking con
trast than between the expression of Jean
-durie and Xavier at this moment.
“Ah ! here he comes at last!” beamed
hvaii Jean Marie’s radiant face.
''Liable! (liable!” was the interpreta
tlon of the troubled expression of the
old man’s.
Nud both gazed eagerly at Luc,
J -ut he did not heed them. Walking
quumjy up to Margaret, he addressed
himself to Xavier, in a strangely altered
voice ;
‘Acs, so much the worse you think.
I have come back. You will be enraged
because you forbid me to speak to her.
But I could not stay down there any
longer, knowing what I know. I was
longing to embrace her, hoping to look at
her, ma belle mignionne !”
As he reached Margaret, lie took her
up in his arms, raised her to him, and
pressed true, tender kisses on the cheeks
and brow of the young girl, who did not
seem at all astonished by this singular
manifestation of feeling, evincing some
little consciousness only by a sweet blush
ing smile.
Xavier pushed his cap violently to the
very top of his forehead, and looked like
one who was suddenly stupefied.
Jean Marie laughed a little sneering
laugh,, while Etienne looked on with the
deepest interest.
Neither Xavier, Luc. nor Margaret had
ever before heard so many connected
words from Luc’s lips: imagine then
their astonisment increased, when turning
to the old miller, with a scornful shrug of
his shoulder, he said: *
“Ha! It was I then who kept her
from marrying! I! with my advice, my
proposals ! I must go away ! Yes—you
said it—you wished it! I to go and leave
her ? my beautiful darling !”
And again be took her in his arms and
kissed her, “Now she will marry as soon
as you please; yes! oh, she knew well
what she wanted to do ! and she would
not tell any one—not her old Luc! ma
belle mignionne!”
Margaret here looked earnestly at him.
“Yes, it is time,” said he turning to
her, “I know you will marry now, like a
a goodjchild, to please Grand-papa ; that
is, I mean should you find a good hus
band. No more difficulty now !”
Margaret blushed and cast down her
eyes.
“ Allans! allons!” cried Lue, throwing
bis head back, as though he would show,
by this movement, his pride in the young
girl, “no blushing, no looking down—
hold up your head as high as your old
Luc’s.
But Margaret seemed more and more
embarrassed.
“Ah, little one ! I knew well it was
you,” said he looking tenderly upon her.
‘I said at once to nurse Piret “you are
right; 7 tis she, good heart, true heart, the
heart of an angel!’ ma belle mignionne!”
And here his kisses fell softly again and
again upon the young girl’s fair cheek.
But Xavier iterrupted him, saying :
“What is the meaning of all this?
Can’t you speak to me ?”
“Ah yes! I forget! I must explain.
Can you understand it yet? Do you
know why she would never marry ? I
will tell you. It was because she was
not yet twenty-one years of age, because
she was not yet mistress of her own pro
perty, and could not do all that her noble
heart dictated. Day before yesterday
she was—as you know—twenty one, and
went with you to the Notary. To-day
the Notary came to Clare Pilot’s house—
the poor sick creature, with a child to
raise, and she so poor. The Notary
says: ‘this child has a sum of money
settled on it for life, the interest is to go
to the mother; four hundred francs of in
terest every year. Then Clare, then the
Mere Pirot, say, “who is this ? how is
this ?” Notary says, “a secret, I cannot
tell”—then turns on his heel and goes off.
Mere Pirot comes here—is here now—
down stairs at this very moment. She
comes to me, cryingjand saying: “It is no
one but Margaret! but she must not —
we do not wish it! Dear child! noble
child ! But she must take back her
money; Luc, you must tell her—you can
make her,’ And so Master, Luc comes
back to her, though you forbid it—no
matter, lie comes to bless once again his
own belle mignionne!”
‘But, ’ stammered Margaret, “this is
not”—
.AUGUSTA, GA., AUGUST 22, 1868.
“Hush,” said Luc sharply. “Not one
word. It is you! yes, you, and only
you!”
Xavier seemed to be buried in thought,
and Jean Marie still talked on as one who
could not comprehend matters.
Etienne leaned upon both arms—his
chin resting on his folded hands—pale,
motionless, and apparently occupied in
watching every look of Margaret.
“Do you understand now ?” said Luc.
“Yes, I think so,” said Xavier. “She
was only waiting until she should be
mistress of her own property. She left
the Notary’s with me day before yester
da}', then returned to liis officeafter I
went off, directing him to settle a certain
sum on the little one, securing the inter
est to the mother. Is that right, Luc ?”
“Yes, voila!” said Luc, “ma belle mig
nionne!”
“But, my little girl,” cried Xavier, “do
you know that four hundred francs is the
interest of your eight thousand ?”
“Ah! ah! how is that? Eight thou
sand francs,” cried Jean Marie starting,
and seeming at last to be roused up to
taking part in what was going on ; “eight
thousand francs? ma foi! why that is
just the body of her—”
Margaret prevented his saying more.
Until this moment she had remained
quiet, as if overpowered by sweet, modest
feelings; but on hearing these last words
of Jean Marie, she drew herself up, acting
as though it were beneath her dignity to
notice them. ‘ Well, Grand-papa, *but
those eight thousand francs were my own,
were they not ?” she asked respectfully.
And glancing from her Grandfather to
Etienne, she saw two great bright drops
trickling down the cheek of the honest
youth.
“I cannot say yet, petite, I cannot tell,”
began the Grandfather, “but—”
“But?” “Xavier mind, master,” said
Luc, as lie tenderly stroked Margaret’s
braids, “she will marry soon, now—no
more difficulty with her now.”
“That may be, it is possible,” said Jean
Marie, with the most self-important air,
stretching over the bench to leave the
table, “but I declare to you very dis
tinctly, Monsieur Coudret, that I with
draw my pretentions to mademoiselle’s
hand. I am thoroughly cured of my
folly—this line affair of the eight thou
sand francs does not promise well for
the—”
Jean Marie was cut short in his ha
rangue by a much more powerful voice
than Margaret’s.
‘All, par example!” cried Etienne
springing up with great excitement iu
his voice and manner, and striking the
table with the palm of his hand. “Ma
foi! master, there are some folks who
either presume greatly upon your good
nature, or who think that the members of
your household arc arrant cowards, and
will allow you to be insulted in your own
house, and in their presence! But if you
are good enough to pass over the outrages
ot these ill-mannered people, you must
not expect us to be willing to be called
c >wards by those who have shown you
such disrespect. No, master! we cannot
consent to this, nor will we longer remain
silent.”
Etienne here paused and glanced to
wards Margaret, as if seeking her ap
proval. But this was needless; for, while
Xavier, Luc, and even the imperturbable
Jean Marie himself, showed great sur
prise at this outburst, Margaret, with
pride and pleasure sparkling in her eye,
seemed to be animated by the same
spirit that moved him.
“Yes, pardieu!” resumed Etienne
with added confidence, and in a tone of
quiet irony, “there is something very
amusing to me in this proceeding, and
with your kind permission, master, I am
going to explain it to you. Certain
people came here two days since, only to
bring on themselves a scornful rejection
of their presumptious offers; and here
they have returned to-day, and in your
presence, and that of the noble young
girl by whom they were repulsed, they
dare to speak of their pretentions, and
they dare to say that Tis only now, and
by their own accord they withdraw them!
as if it had ever rested with them to de
cide! Not he! good master, I find this
very droll, very amusing.”
Etienne, laughing in the most quiet
and provoking manner, and twisting his
great hands, one over the other, had left
his place and moved forward, as if he in
tended to cut off Jean Marie’s retreat, pre
tending at the same time to be unconscious
of bis presence. The discomfitted guest
meanwhile with his arms hanging down,
his mouth agape, his head bent forward,
seemed at last to realize the position of
affairs. Luc, also, evidently understood
matters more clearly, for, standing with
one hand resting on his hip, the other
leaning on Margaret’s shoulder, he smoth
ered his laugh in his great beard,
which became violently agitated by the
unusual excitement.
Xavier stood quietly apart; his coun
tenance expressive of anything but dis
pleasure at the change in the aspect of
affairs.
“Indeed,” continued Etienne, “where
have these fine people come from ? where
have they learned their fine manners? It
seems to me they are very bold. For whom
do they take that noble young girl, that
they should dare speak of her as though
she were some scorned or despised being?
Despised? they are despised, scorned ?
They are scorned ! Only they themselves!
They know not that there is not one who
dare look upon her save with honor and
respect! no one who dare say one word
derogatory of her! Ah ! how little they
know that the whole Canton prides itself
upon her beauty, and her grace, and her
sweetness.”
“Ah yes,” said Xavier, in a tone of
happy pride, his heart swelling with emo
tion as he looked upon his grandchild,
whose beauty was enhanced at that mo
ment by the modest blush that suffused
her sweet face.
Xavier’s exclamation by no means
seemed to re-assure Jean Marie.
“What was their motive in bringing
their tricks and their ill manners here?”
continued Etienne. “Did they think
they could go off and revenge them
selves by boasting that they bad made
game of one whom all their arts could
not win ? It may be so. But in our
case, thanks to l ßon Dieu ’ the what they
will say outside, can never trouble us
here.”
“I think not,” said Xavier, shaking
his head significantly.
“If it were not so,” continued Etienne,
“there are some here to-night, master,
who could defiantly say to them, in their
very teeth, that they lied, like fiends, and
who compel them, miserable,braggarts as
they are, to keep their tongues quiet, if
they could utter nothing but those lying
boasts.”
“Ah! ha !we could soon show them
that,” said Xavier, who thought that now
was his only chance to intimidate his for
mer ally, finding the manly support he
received fram Etienne much more after
his own heart, than the system of eva
sion and meanness he had been compelled
to practice hitherto.
Etienne continued ;
“It is purely through respect to you,
master, that I say no more; indeed, 1 may
add, that I do no more on this occa
sion.”
Then, looking over to Margaret ;
“I have been given to understand that
there are ‘certain good Christians’ in the
house, who stood in need of a good
lesson; I have done what could; indeed I
could do no more,”
x\fter that, looking sternly at Jean
Marie, he said: “1 trust in God that what
I have said may be sufficient, and that
those who needed, may profit of it; for 1
must say, if ever I should be obliged to
repeat the lesson, it will be after another
fashion. At all events, if I have not
made myself sufficiently understood, I am
always ready to explain, elsewhere or
otherwise.”
Finally, turning to Xavier:
“Master, voila tout! It is*all I have
to say.”
“And it was honestly, bravely, spoken,”
replied Xavier, who, with one hand
pressed the extended hand of the excited
young man, and with the other hand, with
almost paternal familiarity, upon his
shoulder.
A deep silence followed, during which
Jean Marie seemed laboring to get up a
fine speech to cover with an air of offend
ed dignity the inglorious retreat lie was
evidently anxious to effect.
“After all,” said he, with a sneer upon
his face, which vanished quickly at a
threatening glance from Etienne. “Af
ter all, ’tis my opinion that every one
should—”
“But,” said Margaret turning to Luc,
without deigning the slightest notice of
Jean Marie’s words or presence; “But you
remember our agreement Luc?”
“Stop! Yes, apropos,” said Xavier,
while Jean Marie tried to recover from
the insult Margaret’s scornful indiffer
ence had again subjected him to.
“Apropos,” said Xavier again. “What
is this famous agreement then ?”
“ Famous'*. Somebody has evidently
been speaking to you about it then
grand-papa ?”
“Ah! ha! ha !” said Xavier, who, not
over-generous at this crisis, casta glance
of triumph at the dejected face of his for
mer accomplice.
“Ah,” growled Luc, following the
glace, aud throwing out his great clench
ed fists, as though preparing for a fight.
These short exclamations and belligerent
movements by no means seemed to revive
Jean Marie’s drooping spirits.
“Grand-papa,” laughed the young girl,
“there is no great mystery in our agree
ment.”
“Never mind,” said Xavier, “still I
should like to —”
“Know what it is ? Just as you please
then Grand-papa. Our famous agree
ment then, was simply a promise that I
made of my own free will to Luc; one
day that he told me he could not live
without seeing me, I told him I felt sure
we would never be seperated. ‘Who
knows?’ he said with a troubled look.
Then added that as far as it depended on
you he would have nothing to fear—for
if by any unimaginable possibility you
should ever think of discharging him, I
would soon settle the matter with you.”
“Ah! I sec now. That was the reason
I suppose, that he sent me to you this
morning,” said Xavier. But I saw him
laugh when I spoke of the possibility of
my death, and of your being left alone,
and then—”
“He laughed ?” questioned Margaret.
“Yes, and I cannot see that there is
anything so amazing in what I said—it
seemed to me very strange that he did.’’
“I will tell you then, Grand-papa,” said
the young girl —who had seemed by a
look to question Luc—“lie laughed be
cause it seemed so droll to him that you
should speak of my being left alone, as
long as he lived, and was here to protect
and care for me. Is it not so, Luc.’
Luc threw his head back, placing his
hand tenderly upon the young girl s head.
“Ah, it was that then ? ’ said the Grand
father, in a touo of satisfaction. “But you
ma petite , when ever I spoke to you—
you know that idea ol yours?
“Oh yes,” said Margaret, laughing, “I
know. Listen to me, and I will tell you
about our agreement.”
“Well, tell me.”
“As long as I am unmarried, there is
no fear of Luc leaving the Mill, because
we know whose will rules here, don’t we
chere grand perc ? But when I will bo
married, whether I shall be separated
from him or not, will depend upon my
husband; and husbands are not quite as
easily managed as Grand-papas you know.
Am I right Grand-papa ■ But I cannot
ISTo. 23.